Conquest - Prologue

James – Los Angeles

OF all the locations for his resurrection, the Serpent chose the one that best spoke to his forgotten heritage.

            The auditorium of the West Angeles Church of God In Christ, which on any given day could hold an excess of 22 000 people, was bathed in a preternatural darkness.  The usually vibrant colours of the mosaic at the back of the main stage were dulled by the deep gloom.  Under normal lighting, the stage would have appeared to be the colour of red clay with six steps raising the center of the stage above the level of the audience.  Just below the mosaic, bleachers wrapped around the center platform.  From them, the choir’s voice was amplified by the fervour of the audience and the acoustic design of the cathedral.

            However, tonight, the church held an audience which far exceeded the capacity envisioned by even the most ambitious of patrons.  Tonight, the cathedral would hold a service of an entirely different kind.  Certainly not what its most faithful parishioners would normally have attended within its hallowed halls.  And tonight, the only music would be swallowed up by the far reaching shadows looming over the main stage like the physical presence of He whom the musicians sought to please.

             The silence was shattered as the mighty doors to the great chamber were thrust open.  In marched four figures.  The lead figure was followed by two, dragging a fourth.  They navigated the near total darkness and ascended to the main stage.  Once there, the captive was propped up on his knees.  His shirt was stained with sweat, his face bruised, and a single cut had formed above his right eyebrow.  The man was named James.

            James didn’t know where he was.  Last he remembered, he had been in his apartment in Chicago when the three figures he was now with had burst in.  He had not even been able to shout out before the three had pounced on him.  With animal ferocity they had beat him until he had finally lost consciousness.

Now, finally able to take a good look at his captors, he found he was unable to distinguish anything about them.  They lacked any memorable or defining features, as though one’s eyes could find nothing of consequence about their appearance.  In fact, this effect was so powerful as to render James unable to determine the genders of any of them.  The only thing James was certain of was that each figure gave off a heady smell of sulphur, as though it were being secreted from their skin like sweat.

            “What do you want from me?” James demanded, looking between them.  When he turned to the third figure he saw that it was moving in a circle around him and the two restraining him.  Only when the figure had returned to its starting position in front of James did he notice that it was holding a knife to its wrist and bleeding onto the floor.

            “Who the hell are you people?”

            Suddenly, James felt his stomach clench.  He felt his muscles tighten and a shiver race up and down his spine.  The effect was the same as nails on a chalk board.  He didn’t hear anything – the three figures were unnaturally silent – but he felt as though someone had laughed at him.  He glanced around as best he could in his restrained position but he could see no one else in the massive auditorium.

            When James turned back – feeling it would be unwise to take his eyes off of his captors even for a moment – he barely caught a glint of metal before he felt a knife slash across his chest.

            James cried out, feeling the knife dig deep.  He attempted to break out of his captors’ grasp but he felt as though steel beams had been wrapped around his arms.  Grunting against the stinging pain, he felt the blood run down his chest.  The figure that had slashed him grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged.  The fabric tore easily, exposing the wound on James’ chest.

            James glanced down but his eyes shifted from his own wound to the blood the figure had spilled on the floor around him.  As though it possessed a life of its own, the blood was moving to form a circle with James at the center.

            Before he could demand another explanation, the knife-wielder slashed him again, slicing into the exact same groove formed by the blade the first time.

            He cried out again, feeling blood begin to flow freely.  Slumping forward, hissing against the searing pain, James watched the knife-wielder kneel before him and produce from a pocket a strange amulet.

            The stone at the center of the amulet was a deep black.  So deep that staring into it gave James an intense surge of vertigo, as though he could fall forward at any moment into its abyssal darkness. Beneath the surface was a constantly shifting tapestry of red smoke, light, and fire that mesmerized and terrified James all at once.  The stone was surrounded by a simple golden circle. He knew, before the figure even moved towards him, that the last thing he wanted was for his blood to touch that amulet.

            “Don’t touch me with that!” James hissed, glaring at the non-descript face of the figure before him.

            James felt he saw something shift in that indefinable face, a curving of forgettable lips, and a black twinkle in unremarkable eyes.  The figure then moved its hand towards James’ chest, pressing the amulet stone into the center of the slash.  Blood pumped out, surging over and around the stone as though it was drawing the blood into itself.

            “No!” James roared.  His skin was crawling as though he was being violated to his very core.  His fists clenched to the point that he felt his nails dig into his palm and draw more blood from his body.  He felt as though the amulet was draining him.

            “NO!”

            Suddenly, James felt the grip on his arms vanish.  His arms fell to his side, gravity now free to do its work.  He heard crashes to either side of him, but he didn’t glance in either direction.  With his new found freedom he lashed out at the figure holding the amulet to his chest.  He grabbed the front of the figure’s shirt and shoved it away from him.

            The instant the amulet broke contact with his skin the feeling of revulsion dissipated.  James was about to turn and flee when he saw that he had done more than shove the knife-wielder away from him.  The figure had been flung across the stage, impacting the mosaic at the back with such force as to crack the wall.  The figure then plummeted to the bleachers and rolled down to the ground with an audible snap.

            But, as though the entire ordeal had no effect on it, the figure rose to its feet and launched itself towards James, uttering an unnatural roar as it closed the distance in a single leap.

            James reacted instantly, striking out at the figure.  His fist connected with the figure’s chin and James watched with shock as the figure was launched into the stands of the auditorium.

            James spun around, searching for the other two attackers, and saw them scrambling out of the seats further back in the auditorium.

            How had they gotten there?

            James searched for an exit, hoping to spot the warm red glow of an EXIT sign.  Instead, as his body moved, he noticed his center of gravity was off.  Stumbling, he glanced over his shoulder.  He cried out in shock at what he beheld.

            Wings.  Black wings, coming out of his back, faintly reflecting light off of each feather as though they were made of metal.  But there was no light in the auditorium, the shimmer had no source.

            Before his brain had time to process what he saw, he felt that same feeling of revulsion magnified a thousand fold.  He was practically paralyzed with the pure, soundless, rage that washed over him.  He glanced around for the source but he could find nothing.

James’ distraction had given his kidnappers time to cross the auditorium and leap on him.  They shoved him to the ground, the effect of the untraceable roar weakening him.  With animal savagery, they pinned his arms to the stage.  James struggled, not understanding, but knowing, that he was stronger than his attackers. He knew that the roar was diminishing that strength but that his life hung in the balance.

            He had thrown one of the attackers off of him and was reaching for the other when the third figure, the knife-wielder, leapt back into his peripheral vision.  Before James could do anything in his own defense – his arms caught up in fighting off the second attacker – the third figure thrust the amulet against his chest.

            James could feel the urgency of the draining now.  He could feel the exodus of the blood from his body.  With each second he felt weaker until the grip of the second attacker on his arms was a steel grip once again.

            A minute later, James felt something else begin to be drawn from his body.  Something essential, eternal, something that was quintessentially James, was being drained from him now.  He was powerless to stop it.

            An eternity passed, thought it was probably no longer than a few seconds, and then James felt himself die.

            The first figure returned to the stage, snapping its dislocated shoulder back into place without so much as a grunt.  The figure with the amulet rose, holding it before him expectantly.  Nothing happened.

            “It did not work,” the second figure said, its voice as non-descript as its features.

            “Not just anyone’s blood will do,” the knife-wielder stated.

            “What now?” the first asked.

            The first wasn’t addressing either of the other two figures.  He spoke to the amulet.

            The red arras of the amulet surged up, as though something within it fought to get out.  The swell of light, smoke, and fire pressed itself against the interior walls of the amulet.  The fluid-like substance bucked, as though it were a thing alive, and the three figures understood.

            “Only he can open it,” the knife-wielder stated.

            “We must find him,” the second confirmed.

            “Micah,” nodded the first.